Of Aviators and Suits
by agentsmelinda
Summary: A collection of drabbles about a certain pilot and a certain team leader. [Coulson/May]
1. KNOCK OUT

**KNOCK OUT.**

She pulled out the mats, eventually. It was then that he found himself clad with a plain grey shirt and shorts and face-to-face with one combat-ready Melinda May.

He could only watch her as she changed her stance. _Well, she was definitely a sight to be seen._ And when her eyes closed on to his and her fists were already clenched, he knew that she was ready to attack.

And attack she did.

After what it seemed to be a split-second, she almost landed a kick on his torso, if only he didn't miraculously evaded the hit. He had almost let out a sigh of relief, in admittance that he was not really expecting that his opponent when he resumes his sparring sessions since New York is one as _capable_ as her because she was certainly _the best_ that he could ever have_._

He saw a familiar smirk grace her features, telling him that she was just getting started. In response, he merely smirked back at her and shrugged.

And maybe made a silent little prayer or two to whoever it was who was listening that he would do anything to survive this ordeal.

In less than a minute, Phil Coulson finds himself staring at the ceiling of the bus' cargo hold with his back against the mat.


	2. BANDAGES

**BANDAGES.**

He couldn't help but wince as the wet cloth came in contact with the rather deep wound on his right bicep.

The latest mission was particularly tough for everyone, especially for him who ended up with a bruise on his cheek and a samurai sword cutting through the sleeve of his suit and into his arm.

May shook her head as she surveyed the wound. "I think it's going to need a few stitches."

He was supposed to say something back, but as he turned to her, May was _smiling._

"What are you smiling about?" Coulson asked, and his confusion seeped into his voice.

"Columbia. 1994." She replied as she moved to open the drawer next to his bunk to get a bottle of rubbing alcohol and a pack of cotton balls. "You got stabbed in the shoulder and I had to fix you up myself because taking you to the hospital would obviously blow our cover."

Despite the pain in his arm, Coulson couldn't help but chuckle. "How can I forgot how you actually bought a cheap sewing kit and a bottle of vodka from the merchandise store next to the apartment we were staying in?"

May raised an eyebrow at him and smirked; "Are you sure that it's not the _fun_ that we had afterwards that you remembered so well?"

A smile had made its way on his and her face.

_That was enough of an answer._

* * *

A/N - Columbia. It was a magical place, too.


	3. FAMILIARITY

**FAMILIARITY.**

Melinda was certainly surprised when she finds it buried deep beneath almost all of her blouses and shirts that she kept in her closet.

She surveyed the oversized grey shirt in her hands as she sat at the edge of her bed. The S.H.I.E.L.D. logo in front had somehow faded, like the surname printed in white and in caps at the back.

_COULSON._

Despite the fact that it smelled of detergent, instead of _someone_'s cologne, it still brought back images from the evening, fourteen long years ago, that lead her in possession of the very shirt that she was holding.

The exact reason behind she ended up wearing his shirt a few years back was a little hazy; yet, she clearly remembers her old self with no intention of returning it to its respectful owner in the first place.

And despite her best efforts, Melinda couldn't help but smile.

In fact, a few hours later, she ends up sleeping soundly, wearing an old S.H.I.E.L.D. that was not hers in the first place.

* * *

A/N - This piece didn't quite hit the 200-words mark, so expect another chapter soon-_ish_. And, thanks for the motivating follows that this series had received!


	4. SILENCE

**SILENCE.**

She opened the door to his office slowly while carrying a bottle of whiskey in her left hand and two glass tumblers in her right.

He only eyed her curiously at first, but then May tilted her head towards the couch; he removed his eyeglasses and stopped working on the sizeable amount of paperwork he had on his desk.

_Coulson knew what it meant._

And as the two of them settled on the couch, side by side, May poured the two of them a drink. As their fingers slightly brush against each other as she hands him his drink, he thought that maybe he missed _this _– the days when it was just the two of them.

He wanted to ask her if she remembered their late night drinks with Barton and Romanov, the bar fight he accidentally got in Berlin back in '93, the time she broke a man's arm in three places while they were undercover in '91…

But he doesn't say a single word.

He finished his drink without a word exchanged between the two of them. May poured him another and after she returned the bottle to its spot on the floor, she inched herself closer to him and rested her head against his shoulder.

The silence continued to lapse between the two of them.


	5. SCARRED

**SCARRED.**

He felt something electric surge through his veins as her hand came contact with the scar on his chest.

He doesn't know how to react what he felt, though, but he's not quite sure if the feeling is unwanted as it was unexpected.

As the moments passed in silence, he became more aware of the warmth of her hand and his heart as it beats faintly against her palm.

_Alive._

A feeling he hasn't been able to feel for a long time now. She made him feel alive.

_More alive._ If that was humanly possible.

After a fleeting moment, their eyes meet. And in that instance, he is reminded of her story, her scars – that she is just as broken and scarred as he is.

He is not alone.

* * *

_note: the shortest of the chapters, yes, but there's more to follow, i promise!_


	6. REMEDY

**REMEDY.**  
The two of them have somehow settled into a routine where he joins her for T'ai Chi every morning. So when he suddenly does not show up, she is left baffled. So she decides to check up on him.  
May knocked.  
May knocked twice.  
_Still no answer._  
Just before she starts to knock on the door of his room once again, she heard the doorknob click. The door opened and she is greeted by Coulson - _a rather sick Phil Coulson_.  
He insists that he is fine, but she was unmoved - she had decided that she would be looking after him until he is better.  
He then insists that she has a plane to fly; she puts the Bus on autopilot for the rest of the day.  
_It was final._  
Besides, as if she has not done this before with him.  
She ran him a warm bath and gave him meds.  
She told the team. They understood that even Phil Coulson gets sick from time to time.  
She cooked him some soup. She made him some tea, too.  
With her efforts, he was already feeling fine when the evening came. He was lying on his bed, with his back facing her, sitting on a chair by his bedside.  
She took a glance at the clock on the wall - it was time to go.  
She stood up, and with hesistation, placed a soft kiss on his temple when she thought he was sleeping.


	7. YULETIDE

**YULETIDE.**

NOT ONE MEMBER of the team had expected that they would be spending Christmas Day on the Bus, but despite the fact that they were going to celebrate the holiday thousands of feet about the ground, Fitz-Simmons made an effort to take the holiday festivities up into the air.  
He had expected that she would not be participating in the celebration, that would be taking the time to herself.  
But she surprised everyone when she showed up in the kitchen wearing a striped red sweater to help Fitz-Simmons in preparing Christmas breakfast for the whole team.  
It went on the whole day, as she helped in decorating the Christmas tree, setting up the holiday lights, and baking gingerbread cookies with Simmons.  
No one seemed to mind.  
In fact, they all welcomed the change the Christmas air seemed to have elicited from her.  
Evening came, and she came by his office, just after she had given her gifts to the others. She thanks him for his present - a red scarf - and hands him her present to him with a smile on her face.  
An unusual feeling started to rise in his chest. And in that little moment, he saw her - the Melinda he knew, the Melinda before Bahrain, the Melinda before the scars and the trauma, the Melinda he had come to -  
She bids him goodnight, cutting off his train of thoughts, and leaves.  
He then untied the ribbon of his gift and opened it.  
_ Captain America boxer briefs that were just his size._

* * *

_A rather late Christmas gift for everyone. I hope everyone had a great time during the holiday!_


	8. FIELDWORK

**FIELDWORK.**  
BEING IN THE field together again did bring back an old, familiar rhythm within the two of them.  
The old days surely had been different. Times have changed. He was not the same Phil Coulson as he was back then. And in quite the same aspect, she was not the same Melinda May.  
Considering the fact that between the very first time they were assigned to work together, she left the field and prompted for a deskjob due to the lasting trauma she suffered as an aftermath of the events of Bahrain, and he, while saving New York City and the rest of the world with the Avengers, was killed by a god and has mysteriously risen from the dead, they were quite the team, still.  
Still covering each other's backs. Still the occasional bickering. And every single thing that came in between. And every single thing that made what they are, together.  
It must be the familiarity or the mutual respect that came with working with each other and knowing each other for years - or something entirely different - that make what they have on the field what it simply is - a good, solid, partnership.  
Well, they were Phil Coulson and Melinda May after all.  
That simple fact itself, making them a combination that is simply hard to beat.

* * *

_YULETIDE has been tweaked a tad bit because of two main reasons: (1) It doesn't quite fit the bill, being a part of this "series" and all; (2) I am an insecure sack of meat. Thanks for all your amazing reviews, by the way!_


	9. COMPANION

_Set right after s01e11._

* * *

**COMPANION.**

He could still feel the sting of the gash right above his brow. However, it could not mask the mocking hollowness he could feel in his gut.

_He simply was not the same anymore._

She didn't knock when she came in. She simply stood there, with her back against the door, watching him.

Then his pleas echo in her mind once more – _Please, let me die…_

In her silence, he doesn't notice her come in, partly because of the fact that he was lost in the depth of the unanswered questions and half-truths that continue to plague his mind.

She slowly walked to the spot in front of his desk. He lifts up his head and their eyes meet. She offered him a small smile, yet he could feel that there was something that she was holding back.

But he gets the message, that in the dimness of his office, he was not Phil Coulson, the team leader, in the same way that she was Melinda May, the pilot.

_He was a man who lost his life._

_She was a woman who lost herself._

And she was going to be there for him.


End file.
